waking up to love

He slowly awoke and with the first shift of his body reached his arm around her pulling her close, their worn sleeping bags between them.  He kissed the back of her head, pausing for a moment and closing his eyes while her hair covered his face and blocked most of the beams of breaking daylight that had started warming his toes in the bottom of his sleeping bag.

Now propped on his elbow, he gently brushed her hair with his fingertips and started tracing the outline of her face, her eyebrows, her lips with the tip of his index finger.  She stirred in her sleep, a slight smile forming on her lips.

The car behind me honked.  I looked up at the traffic light. It had turned green -my turn to go. As I took my foot off the brake and slowly pressed on the gas pedal, I glanced back at the couple waking up on the sidewalk in the partial shelter of a setback storefront entry.

She had opened her eyes, turned on to her back and was smiling softly up at him as he spoke to her.

Lieben sie mich, eigentlich?

Tell me, do you love me? (by Charlotte Salomon)

Love takes work

heart break

What is interesting about a broken heart, she realized years later, is it has much more surface area - more possibility for being touched by love and more space from which to radiate love.

your wild and precious life

Maria Shriver interviews one of my favorite writers - the poet Mary Oliver, their conversation published in a recent O Magazine article. http://www.oprah.com/entertainment/Maria-Shriver-Interviews-Poet-Mary-Oliver

Imagine both my surprise and delight to read this question and Mary's response.

Maria Shriver: One line of yours I often quote is, "What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" What do you think you have done with your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver: I used up a lot of pencils.

Maria Shriver: [Laughs.]

Mary Oliver:

What I have done is learn to love and learn to be loved. That didn't come easy. And I learned to consider my life an amazing gift. Those are the things.

She has learned to love and learned to be loved.  

That we may all have this same grand opportunity.

proof #3

"There is no love; there are only proofs of love." Pierre Reverdy

It's a week day evening, a jumble of carpool deliveries and errands (Who needed shoelaces?......You are hungry now - you can't wait for dinner?.....You need new shoes, too?.....Jump out for soccer, we'll be back with dinner soon.) One errand is dropping summer camp papers by your work.

Amidst the chaos of kids and a dog running about and finishing your job, you step out on to the porch as I slide into the front seat of my car.  "Hey, how are you feeling, doll?" you ask me over the balcony.

"I'm fine now. Really, I'm fine.  It's okay. I'm not falling apart.  I'll hardly be thinking about this in the morning.  I promise.  I'm really fine." It's the b-roll commentary that continuously loops as the backdrop to the days activities.

Proof is that you ask. Proof is that you listen. Always.

secret code

My son was 5 years old, the summer before he started kindergarten, and we were playing at the park. He was holding my hand and squeezing in intervals. I would alternatively squeeze back the same number of times he had or one more or less. He grinned each time, looking me in the eye as if we shared a secret. Finally, I smiled back and squeezed over and over and over again - an attempt to be over the top and funny. He looked upset and said, "You don't get it."

"I guess I don't," I replied, "Tell me."

Punctuated with three hand squeezes he demonstrates, "This means 'I-Love-You.'"  

I nodded in response.  

"Then you can do this 'I-Love-You-Too,'" he explained with four squeezes.  "You can't do it as many times as you want to.  That does not mean anything," he finished.  

"Okay. Can I do 'I-Love-You' or is that just for you?" I asked as I squeezed his hand three times.  

"Well, I guess you can if you really want to.  But that is mostly for me.  You are the one that does 'I-Love-You-Too,'" he explained.  

I nodded and waited for his three squeezes to my hand so I could respond with my four and mouth the words "I-Love-You-Too" confirming I learned my part.  He smiled in return.  We had a secret code.

He held my hand often during those years - crossing the street, in new situations, walking in a store, when he was sad or felt sorry.  One time he told me quietly following a hand squeeze exchange, "You can't teach this to the other kids" referring to his siblings.  "Okay" I agreed.  We kept this exchange going for many years, secret until now.  In the middle of a party or in the middle of nothing at all, he would grab my hand and the familiar pulse would follow "I-Love-You" with my reply, "I-Love-You-Too."

Years have gone by and my son is older.  His hair is long.  He is super cool and wears a baseball hat backwards every day.  He starts plenty of his sentences with, "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but...." He plays the guitar and throws a baseball like a champ. We don't have the occasion to hold hands anymore and I had forgotten about our secret code - it had slowly faded into the past along with many sweet remembrances you never think to write down or that can't be captured with a photograph.

A few weeks ago we were on vacation and walking in Hollywood. As we came to an busy intersection, the light changed and signaled our turn to walk. Some maternal instinct from the past charged into my hand and I impulsively grabbed the hands of the two kids on either side of me.  My backward hat son looked at me like I had lost it. I kept holding tight, shrugging my shoulders and shaking my head as if to say, "I'm the mom.  Of course, I'm crazy."  Part way through our walk across the street, holding hands and swinging our arms, I felt his hand begin the "I-Love-You" squeeze and with no hesitation my hand remembered her part, "I-Love-You-Too" she squeezed back.

He smiled and asked, "Remember when I taught you that?"  

"I do" I replied and smiled in return.  

"Me, too" he says and kept holding my hand as we walked down the crowded sidewalk. 

Welcome Home Soldier

"If I had not been in uniform, I would have held your hand when we walked down the street" she texted late that night after our dinner and her 6 hour round trip drive to my hotel.  "Truly?" I mused.  I would have loved to walk the streets of Washington DC in my black patent high heels and swishy dress with her in her army uniform, boots and beret holding her hand.  I would love to put a face on the hypocrisy that is "Don't' ask. Don't tell." If it was my job, not hers, on the line, I would have pushed her against a massive federal building and kissed her when everyone was watching, just because.

She completed two tours in Afghanistan, lost a fellow soldier during the second tour and works double digit hours during a regular day on the base, but she can't love a woman and talk about it.

I giggled when we sat down at dinner and noticed the silver ring on her left finger. Jokingly I said, "Nice ring – you getting married?" "Nah," she responds with that southern lilt that always makes me lean in. "It's my fake wedding ring to my roommate John.  Just easier that way, you know?"  No, actually, I don't know. 

Later she texts "If you did not live so far away I would have really hit on you by now."   Oh, yeah?  Seems the uniform looms larger than the 3,000 miles. Welcome home, soldier.

couldn't help myself

I had to tell you over and over and over: i love you, too.

Love Heals

It's true.

love rememory

I serendipitously bumped back into an "i love you, too" sign I'd posted last week. All the tabs were gone.  This made me smile broadly.

I wonder where each of those tabs are right now. 

Maybe one is tucked into someone's pocket to be unexpectedly rediscovered? 

One of my friends is lucky like this with rediscovering her own cash in her pants pockets.  I once gave her a pair of jeans and she found my money in the pocket - even more fun! My winter coat pocket has an often forgotten hotel key that I love rediscovering, flipping it over and reading the hotel name which immediately triggers memories of a fantastic trip. Not the same as a tab of paper, but you understand the kind of surprise and delight I'm thinking about.  

Rediscovered memories (or as my young son once said about an epic family vacation, "Those are the best rememories!") for even a fleeting moment delight me. 

I hope there is an 'i love you, too' tab in someone's pocket right now, waiting to spark a beautiful rememory.

heart space

"When you begin to touch your heart or let your heart be touched, you begin to discover that it's bottomless, that it doesn't have any resolution, that this heart is huge, vast, and limitless. You begin to discover how much warmth and gentleness is there, as well as how much space. " Pema Chodron

love multiplies

Tiny bananas remind me love multiplies.

Every time I see a bunch of finger bananas, regardless of the city or block or store, I think of you sitting in your high chair mouth full yet grinning and motioning for 'more!'  I'd start the peel and you'd pull the banana out, shove it in your mouth and motion your sign language for "More! More!" before the entire banana was even in your mouth. 

In these moments I was consumed with love and mesmerized by adoration for you - your wonder, your delight, your budding communication and independence along with my own wonder at being captivated by you.  This is how I learned love multiples.  Before you were born, I'd been completely surprised by my devotion to your sister, amazed that I could be absolutely distracted from the exciting life with no kids I had with your dad.  During your earliest years, love seemed to sprout up everywhere around me. 

The tiny bananas remind me love multiples in moments, in daily life, in the ordinary. Thank you for slowing life to a pace I could feel the expansion happening. 

a little love

"There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread, but there are many more dying for a little love." 

Mother Teresa

so thoughtful

Calla Lillies are my favorite flower in all the universe.

I'm going to walk around like the character in "Somebody loves you, Mr. Hatch" wondering who you are.

Many thanks for making my week!

Good Morning Sunshine!

I love my neighbors across the street.  We have keys to one another's homes and can count on each other in the moments when you could never call anyone else. ("Hey, I forgot to put the newspaper on hold while I'm gone.  Can you make sure the porch looks clean?")

Who else but my neighbor would send me into her house while she was out of town to go through her birthday presents, so I could use her brand new food processor just because I'd come into a bumper crop of basil? Oh, the fun I had pressing the button on her fancy new appliance and watching my bright green pesto sputtering into existence.

We've shared a vacuum, needle and thread, kids' ski clothes, and many tools.  The important things you need at the last minute.  I've often joked, "We really only need one of these anyway."

A broken oven means we get to unexpectedly spend time together on Christmas Day, in our pajamas.  What fun!

Not only did the neighbors let us borrow their work truck (bringing back a flood of childhood memories riding in the truck with my dad) but then helped us carry up the piece of furniture that we'd brought home.  See?  That's big.

One of my most favorite aspects of living across the street from this family, is the mornings their kids will talk to us from the kitchen window. "Hi! Good morning!" they will yell across the street.  Who doesn't want to be greeted with such joy in the morning?

This heART is for you - Good Morning Sunshine!

Nick Metropolis

"Love is all there is."  is imprinted in script on his business card. And Baz knows love when he sees it.

Super thanks for hooking a kid up with his own neon letter and teaching us about wiring electricity.

Nick Metropolis is a treasure trove of Hollywood gliz and glimmer. We had to do a quick U-turn when we drove by- a detour was absolutely necessary and we could not be happier with our discoveries or the delightful conversations we had while inside. 

Spoken Word

Last night I was washing the dishes when my 7th grade daughter walked into the kitchen. She was on assignment to "pick up your room and put at least 10 things in the trash, please." She returned too quickly to the kitchen with two pieces of folded notebook paper, covered on three sides with her hand writing. I was about to redirect her clean-up efforts when she holds the papers out and says, "Mom, I saw this at school and copied it down for you since you write about love.  If you want a better copy, maybe you can find it on the internet."  (No, really, this is the only copy I'll ever need. So sweet.)

As I read, I could not help but grin.  She stood there and watched, waiting for my response. When I finished reading, I looked her in the eye and said, "I love this poem.  Thank you so much for thinking of me and for writing this down."  "I'm glad you liked it," she replied, "But, that is spoken word, not a poem."  Excuse me. Okay, then - I love this spoken word and love even more that she brought it to me. 

Falling in love is like owning a dog
an epithalamion by Taylor Mali
www.taylormali.com

First of all, it's a big responsibility,
especially in a city like New York.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
when you're walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love
ain't no one going to mess with you.
Because crooks and muggers think love is unpredictable.
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?

On cold winter nights, love is warm.
It lies between you and lives and breathes
and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.
It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.

Love doesn't like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,
but you can never be mad at love for long.

Is love good all the time? No! No!
Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.

Love makes messes.
Love leaves you little surprises here and there.
Love needs lots of cleaning up after.
Sometimes you just want to get love fixed.
Sometimes you want to roll up a piece of newspaper
and swat love on the nose,
not so much to cause pain,
just to let love know Don't you ever do that again!

Sometimes love just wants to go for a nice long walk.
Because love loves exercise.
It runs you around the block and leaves you panting.
It pulls you in several different directions at once,
or winds around and around you
until you're all wound up and can't move.

But love makes you meet people wherever you go.
People who have nothing in common but love
stop and talk to each other on the street.

Throw things away and love will bring them back,
again, and again, and again.
But most of all, love needs love, lots of it.
And in return, love loves you and never stops.

to do

To Do:

dance

laugh

love

wonder 

listen

brotherly love

Once when I thanked my brother for being such a great support in my life he replied, "I'm not sure any of that deserves thanks.  I think that is just what brothers do."

enjoy the variety

"Each time of life has its own kind of love."
— Leo Tolstoy

Kindness - a poem

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
     purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.

Naomi Shihab Nye

lucky me

When they were passing out jobs, how did I get so lucky to get "loving you?"

all you need is love

Driving down the street I glimpsed this art installation. We had to stop and walk back to take a picture.  All you need is love.

Sometimes when in you're in love...

.....you can lose your head.

San Francisco, CA